


Spin

by soundsaboutright



Series: it eats insects [1]
Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Fluff, M/M, kissing scene, s01ep14
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:33:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24459757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soundsaboutright/pseuds/soundsaboutright
Summary: Kissing scene in ep 14 and continuation from King's POV.Starts right after King telling Ram that he feels tortured by his presence, because Ram makes him feel good, and it's so hard to hold back his affection.Edit: now has a companion piece: Follow my lead, Ram's POV
Relationships: King/Ram (My Engineer)
Series: it eats insects [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820554
Comments: 17
Kudos: 381





	Spin

**Author's Note:**

> It happened, I wrote. I credit that to the way that finale was written, leaving me feeling happy and light after fearing so much possible frick up, but still leaving so much to explore.  
> Hence here: Exploring.  
> Oh also, the acting. Very much good, yes. Beautiful people and characters.

_If everything could just stop spinning for a minute._

“That’s the reason. I told you why now.” King had made each word sharp; like knives thrown. Double-edged, traitorous and desperate bastards, because they were cutting at himself, too. Why, why did he let he get himself in that situation, even worse, when he was drunk? His fingernails dug into his palm with the fist he was closing and uncurling. If everything could just stop spinning for a minute, then maybe King could figure out why that violent, twisting thing inside him, that felt so much like anger, that thing that he had pushed at Ram just now again, was slipping out of his grip, making his hands and elbows feel feeble and shaking.

How could Ram just _be_ there, still, strangely solid, with those sad, sad eyes?

King’s face had that weird numb feeling from the whiskey, but the cold sweat prickled on his upper lip, the air all too stuffed and hot in here. Another spike of adrenaline hit him then, mixing with the alcohol in his blood, turning everything ugly; because now he had said it out loud, his unwelcome feelings leaving him the one who fucked up this peculiar, strange, warm thing between them. And it had him almost swaying, weak and wrong, urgent and irresponsible and anxious, like he was still laying open secrets he should have better kept inside. It was all falling to fragments, the thing they had built, disintegrating behind King’s furrowed brow and half-closed, tired eyes, like the ground beneath him. “You happy?” He pushed again with everything he had, his hand following his voice.

“Are you happy?!”

He watched as Ram just build himself up again after being shoved. Slowly but surely, kneeling upright and closer still, and it shot more heat to King’s neck. He was so _offended_ by it somehow. Offended by the universe at large, and how was he supposed to be the responsible one when the boy in front of him was looking at him like that? A sound got stuck in King’s throat.

What _was_ it even that Ram’s eyes were demanding, imploring him to do here? He couldn’t tell, he couldn’t tell, he just knew it made him want to lash out, because it made him feel so helpless, so…

So he let go. Wanted to punish Ram for making it so fucking hard on him. Wanted to haul some blame back at that Cool Boy, if for nothing more than having _those eyes_ , wanted to to shock him out of his reach, his sight, his responsibility, his… He wanted…

He registered the stubble of Ram’s skin lightly chafing against his own chin, and a numbed ache in his stiff jaw, because he’d been keeping his muscles so taut, pushing against Ram’s face and teeth.

Then something shifted.

It must have been that Ram moved, because King found _he_ himself had yet to. But suddenly there was give, and Ram’s lips were not a hard line any longer, but fuller and yielding and yet - pressing back against King. There was the shock of gentle warmth - Ram’s hand on his cheek, and King became aware of his own fingers harsh against Ram’s neck. But _Ram’s_ touch was softly guiding and filled with so much care that…

King had to break the kiss, because he couldn’t breathe, and there it was full force for a flash, that pain, that strange _pain_ he dreaded.

_If everything could just stop spinning for a minute._

But then their foreheads were touching, and Ram was still holding King’s face in his hands, and how did that alone create space and a slow sense of safety? Ram’s thumb on his cheek caressed then nudged, and King’s body went, and this was Ram’s lips searching his again?

_Why are you kissing me back? Why are you kissing… kissing…_

King lost his thoughts for a minute inside the shock of sheer physical presence, of tactile pleasure, sensations flooding him. Scent and taste and texture - what strange concepts - motion and pressure, and how the combination of all of them made up the rhythm and muscle memory of _Ram’s kiss_ to his overwhelmed and alcohol-addled brain.

Slow, steady, and wholly consuming.

King found himself leaning into it so much, that the arm he kept his weight on buckled, and their lips slid, missed each other. And he wasn’t sure how but Ram just took it in stride and brought them to lay down on their sides, as if it was the most natural thing to do, and then he kept kissing King, while King’s heart pounded so hard high in his chest, that that it felt like it pulsed and shook into the ground beneath him.

And he must have closed his eyes too long and too tightly because the sense of the tent spinning around them suddenly got much more intense, and when King tilted his head closer to Ram still, the sleeping bag pillow hit a painful spot around his stitches, and he felt brought back to the surface from somewhere very deep.

“I… I can’t lay on that side…” And why did his voice sound like _this_?

Ram’s face was right next to his when he nodded, and then he made to climb over King. King’s brain found it couldn’t handle the very reality of that. His heart stumbled violently, even after Ram had settled on the other side, looking at King with that familiar intensity that was somehow just _looking_ , just watching, searching maybe, but that made King always so curious, what it was that he was seeing, that he was looking for.

He wanted to kiss Ram again.

But his brain felt like it was drifting, and there were not many thoughts beside that one still there, so it wasn’t his thoughts rearranging, but something was, he sensed it, fragments of self and emotion maybe, and hell, King was still quite drunk.

_If everything could just stop spinning for a minute._

“You should rest.” He felt Ram’s fingers on his hair, right over his ear, in a touch soft like his voice, deliberate and very much a caress.

King’s heart pounded in his throat again, heavy but slower now, and he found it weirdly provided a pace for his breathing. He burrowed closer and the air tasted like the laundry detergent of Ram’s sweater.

Maybe he could make sense of this tomorrow. What it all meant. What did it mean?

Ram’s touch drew slow, soothing circles along King’s temples and hairline, and just like that, that was the course King’s thoughts followed.

And with the after effects of too much adrenaline ebbing, King sensed his body let go.

He fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I love to hear from you about this, or the wildfire that is ramking <3
> 
> Might do Ram's perspective of this too?


End file.
